


Easy Way Out

by murpymurpwriter



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murpymurpwriter/pseuds/murpymurpwriter
Summary: Gamora can't help but agree when Drax says carefully, "I suspect we are all shaken by the last battle.”In which Peter and Rocket are not okay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Bit of Both](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/301518) by Bunnyrock. 



Repairs had been at about 73% when he'd been captured and it was a relief when he was allowed to continue them. It was an unspoken command, or expectation really that he get back to work, that he make himself useful because he couldn't fathom any other reason for why they'd let him stay. They could have dumped him, could have turned on him after everything. He wanted to believe that if they had asked him to pack his shit and turn tail that he would have been fine with it, that he would have told them all to go to hell and kept his head up no matter how much it hurt. It was his own fault anyway, he knew, and had always known long before Yondu had the gall to point it out. So really, if he wanted to stay he was going to have to make himself indisposable, if only until they found a replacement or he messed up again.

And while being nicer was pretty d’ast impossible, he’d realized in the last 24 hours that he could always just keep his mouth shut. It may delay the inevitable. He'd been tempted though, so tempted to explode these last few days but the solemn mood and his own revelations kept him from snapping the whole journey back to Berthert. Plus, he thought sourly, destroying Drax for stepping on his foot or letting the humeys have a piece of his mind for commenting on his drinking or fidgeting or other things he can't control would have woken up Groot. And the little guy, who had had a growth spurt again, definitely deserved rest.

Scoffing to himself, he focused on mending the last few feet of the Milano’s exterior. It seemed to mostly be cosmetic damage but it was also better to be safe than sorry, incase unseen damage resulted in a hull breach. Blinking to clear his vision a bit, he decided he might actually get some shut eye after this. The battle and repairs, as well as the non stop tinkering he'd done when not co-piloting Kraglin’s ship, had left him pretty frickin’ exhausted. But it wasn't like he couldn't handle it; he'd functioned on less sleep than this before. Besides, it wasn't as easy as just laying down and closing his eyes.

Groot got it. Couldn't the rest of the world understand how much he hated keeping still? His mood darkened remembering the Ravager humey they'd recently parted from because while he'd gotten a stuttered thank you in the end, he'd still heard that asshole mutter to Peter, “Hey, any way you could get the fox thing to stop taking apart the ship?”

It wasn't the worst name he'd been called but it still pissed him off. But while his grip had tightened on the socket wrench as the two spoke from behind him, he forced himself to keep working. He could hear the faulty wire inside the wall and what exactly was he suppose to do for the next six hours, listen to it buzz? And he had a name, which he was pretty frickin sure that snaggletooth cretin knew! He wasn't just some fuzzy animal! Then, somehow Peter’s huff and retort just made him feel worse, “You think that furry bastard listens to me?”

 

What, did he think Star-Child was doing to defend him? Did he think Peter was going to forget about his attitude problems and battery stealing _and his fur_ and tell Kraglin he wasn't a thing?

 

He snarled, tempted to throw down his sealing gun but he only had one more layer and so he buckled down and got through it. His arms were sore and he could hardly see straight but he kept one clawed finger on the trigger, coating the dents and scratches until they were non-existent. Landing back on the solid ground, he rubbed both of his eyes tiredly. There was still the internal repairs, making sure the systems all worked but for once he didn't feel like being gut deep in wires. Sleep sounds good, he thought but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside, climb into his bunk and leave the repairs for morning. In the morning, everyone would be milling around, looking at him and maybe wondering why it was taking him so long to finish everything. He’d of course tell them to suck a dick if they questioned him directly but still, in the privacy of his mind, he still felt their expectations. Plus, right now was the best time since everybody else had gone to their rooms and settled down, Groot following after Gamora with a smile and dammit, he thought through a wave of jealousy, of course Groot liked them better. He'd probably only stuck with Rocket so long because he didn't have any other option but now, slate wiped clean he had realized he deserved better than a rude, angry, pathetic thing bossing him around.

 

That seemed to do it for he let out a furious yell, threw his gun, and dug his claws into his head as if that could stop the tidalwave of emotions. Cursing inwardly as he fell onto his backside in the dirt of Berthert, it was so frickin’ clear, wasn't it? He wasn't like Yondu, who fucked everything up trying to do right but fixed everything in the end. He wasn't someone that would be missed and he wasn't worth anything to anyone, certainly not worth a chance of redemption when he’d never had an altruistic thought in his life. The thought drifted from his subconscious, finally being recognized; it should have been him who’d died. He should have dragged the Ravager’s blue ass to the ship, and gone back for Peter himself so he could have been the one to die. At least then he’d have one thing, one good thing to claim.

 

But it wasn’t me and the ship needed to be finished, came the sobering conclusion because what use was all this? He might as well try and be useful, instead if sitting on his ass in the dirt like a whiney little bitch. He stood carefully, picking up his tools that had been scattered about, packing them away half heartedly. He needed to rewire the cabin on the left side. It took too much damage for there not to be an issue and even before the battle with the Sovereign Fleet, the boosters on that side had been a bit touchy. He sniffled pathetically, heading inside and trying to get his discombobulated mind to focus so he could plan the next three hours of repairs. When that failed, he hoped there was some left over coffee maybe; Gamora usually made it strong enough to kill a man and that seemed to be what he needed at the moment. He winced when his tool box hit a metal doorway as he wandered the hall but the bedrooms were soundproof, made more soundproof as of late by his insomnia fueled repairs.

  
Still, the sound echoed in his head long after he'd entered the kitchen and grabbed himself a mug. He found about 1/4 a cup of tar like coffee and added a bit of tap water plus a bit of Kree moonshine before heating it up. If Groot was more himself, he thought this might be the point where he picked Rocket up and carried him to bed; he'd done it many times before, when it had just been the two of them working on a bounty, scolding Rocket the whole way. How pathetic was it now that he missed that, missed curling up on that stupid tree and his deep, raspy ‘I Am Groot’s? Hissing when a splash of hot coffee hit his front after a misguided sip, he reaches for his tool box again and he wonders if he could get away with listening to some music. The rooms were soundproof but the music automatically filtered into all the rooms but maybe if he reworked the speakers...Though that'd take a while...or, wait a sec. He heads to his room, digging around until he finds a handheld radio. It’s a little scorched, dented too, and the port for the headphones doesn’t work but the fast songs may keep him up. It doesn't have all of Peter's songs, just ones he likes and a few random ones that aren’t on the mixed tapes and so he listens to it as he works, up to his elbows in cords as he sings along to Spirit in the Sky until...


	2. Chapter 2

He doesn't remember falling asleep, his eyes fluttering as his body makes several realizations. One, he’s cold as hell. Two, he’s trapped. He starts to twist and turn frantically, his sleepy mind making him imagine scientist voices and a surgery table that he’s been tied to-

 

But he’s not in Halfworld, he realizes soon enough. He yanks free of the cords, having fallen asleep in the pile he’d made of wires and breakers, and the sounds he hears are the others moving around on the ship. His internal clock tells him exactly squat about how long he’s been asleep but picking up his radio that’s playing Ballroom Blitz quietly....he’d gone through five and a half fours of music and groaning, he rubs his face. Frowning when his hands catch on a crusty bit of fur which stings a little when poked. He doesn’t understand the red-brown flakes on his hands. Had he cut his face on the wires and not noticed? He rubbed at his fur, which is stiff in more than one place apparently and then he remembers, his little tantrum when he was thinking about Groot liking the others better. Cursing, he gave up on his ministrations. He doubted the blood was all that noticeable with his dark markings and jeez, was he pathetic or what?

 

He took in the wall he'd opened up. He had been finishing up on one more surge protector when he'd passed out. Then, he was supposed to move onto the panel a bit further down the hall. And there was something else he was going to work on, but he didn’t remember now. Eh, it’d come to him, Rocket thought just as the smell of coffee reached his nose. He nearly sprinted down the hall in search of it but he hesitated, suddenly not too sure about seeing the rest of the crew. Don’t be a pussy, he told himself and yet...They probably didn’t want to see his ugly mug anyway, he thought, so he turned back to the wires, working fast as he bit back hurt anger. With the tiny bit of sleep, he’d managed to recover enough that he made quick work of the repairs  (only getting shocked a few times) and by the time he had packed up his tools to head to his rooms, he heard the first sound of approaching footsteps.

 

“Hey, furrball, estimation on when we can finally ditch this popsicle stand?”

 

Rocket let out a groan, picking up the pace as he headed to his room. He turned a corner just about the time Peter came into sight but he brushed past him, face carefully blank; he wasn’t running away, he assured himself. He just didn’t feel like dealing with their asshole leader so smelled of salt and grief.

 

“Hello? Can I get an answer here?”

 

“It’s your ship, “ Rocket snapprd as he neared his door. Slamming his hand into the scan pad to enter, he winced and remembered the mild burns that had occurred when he’d mixed up connections. Peter continued to follow him so he said over his shoulder before shutting his door in his face, “ Your decision, ain’t it?”

 

“Weird, “ Peter mumbled to himself, turning back towards the kitchen. He guessed his frown and the fact that he'd returned alone was clue enough to what had happened when he went to fetch their teammate for breakfast. As expected, Drax finally claimed the griddle cakes that had been set aside for Rocket, causing Groot who was nearly coated in syrup from his own breakfast to slap at the warrior with his branches. It did little good for in two bites, the plate was clear.

 

“Let him rest, “ Gamora says gently, cradling a mug of fresh coffee, “ I know he stayed up all night working.”

 

Peter nods because he knew that, had honestly expected they’d be on Berthert for at least a week more and yet their smallest crewmember, well second smallest now, had surprised him. The Milano already looked good as new! He’d known the other had been fiddling around on ravager’s ship, in some kind of anxious frenzy. And while it was appreciated (Kraglin, after he’d realized Rocket wasn’t doing any harm, had jokingly and unjokingly asked if maybe he could borrow him for an extra few days), it was now a little odd. Had Rocket slept since the battle? It looked like he'd only paused long enough to break into their stash of booze and finish off the coffee from yesterday.

  
But he was quick to nip the bud of worry throwing to grow. He was afterall pretty sure that Rocket would be better after a good, long nap and he should enjoy the lack of arguments. So he focused on his own breakfast and then headed back to his pilot’s seat; he guessed he and Gamora would take turns piloting since Drax wasn’t exactly skilled in it, leaving the bulky man to coddle a distraught Groot. The little tree had twice attempted to kick down Rocket’s door but they had picked him up and carried him away, thinking it was for the best. Groot had settled eventually, frowning as he hugged Peter’s Zune tightly. Yeah, Rocket would get over himself soon enough, he thought, he had to, for Groot at least.


	3. Chapter 3

Within an hour they set course for a planet called Fiminli 6, to purchase supplies and of course catch up on any news regarding easy bounties. It was two days out, two days of peace and quiet and grieving. They felt a bit more themselves by the time they landed, not so sore and actually well rested for the first time in a while. Though, it was like they were a crew of four inside of five given how rarely Rocket made an appearance. But at least he was quiet, not so scathing when he came out of his room to silently pilot, grab coffee or booze, or grab a project from storage. But six days after Yondu’s funeral, the Guardians of the Galaxy exited the Milano, each taking on an errand and splitting up as they explored the cityscape.

 

Peter pointedly avoided any gossip containing the words Ravagers or Sovereign, coming up with two easy missions to earn them some units, though for the most part the missions came to them. Gamora completed one on her way to purchase food items, as a foolish gang thought she would be easy prey with her arms full, and Drax, soon joined by Peter, completed another by intercepting child trafficking all because they decided to take a shortcut back to the Milano. They returned to the ship, looking for Rocket and wondering if he had failed to uphold his grumbled promise of getting weapons, ammo, and fuel. And yet the tank was full, and the storage areas showed crates upon crates of equipment of at least parts to make equipment.

 

Otherwise, it appeared as if the raccoon had never left his room.

 

“Groot?” Gamora tried, then smiled when after the open and close of a door was heard (good, because if Rocket was ignoring Groot they were going to have serious problems), rapid footsteps alerted them to the tiny tree’s approach.

 

“You and Rocket finished shopping early?”

 

Groot finished chewing a plant pellet, and then stared up at them. His eyes were sad, like he had something to say but in the end he simply raised his hands, waiting to be picked up by any one of them. Drax wordlessly scooped him up, having set down a crate of non-perishables with a heavy thud.

 

“Ass, “ Peter muttered because would it kill Rocket to be around them for more than six seconds? He kinda wished Mantis hadn’t gone with Kraglin since maybe she could have gotten their furry teammate out of this funk.

 

“I Am Groot.”

 

They each nodded placatingly, though they did not know what Groot said. Going their separate ways, Peter was tempted to pound on Rocket’s door and ask him what the hell but in the end, he guessed things had worked out. They’d gotten everything they needed, their shared unit pool wasn't depleted all that much so obviously their resident strategist had felt up to bartering (or stealing). And honestly, the human didn’t have the energy to worry. He watched Drax head to the kitchen with a solemn Groot, likely going to put things away and so he followed Gamora, helping her bring their purchases in and sorting them. It looked like they’d be co-piloting again until "midnight", when Rocket would often wordless assume a pilot's chair with the unspoken assumption that Peter and Gamora would be leaving for bed. Any attempts at conversation would be ignored or answered by noncommittal grunts which...fine, was better than insults but still. And it wasn’t like the shifts were set in stone but the sudden inflexibility just seemed like a new way for Rocket to keep avoiding them.

 

“ You’re taking it too personally.”

 

Peter turned, “ Taking what personally?”

 

“You two constantly butted heads and now...I suppose he’s decided to avoid disagreeing.”

 

“He doesn’t have to avoid me like grim death to keep from fighting, “ the human argued though it verged on whining, “ We’ve been cool with each other before. He just has to not be an ass.”

 

“This is him trying, I think. Maybe he’s waiting for you to try too.”

 

“Me? What have I done? He’s the one stealing things and, talking smack all the time, and being an all around jerk!”

 

Gamora rolls her eyes, “ Like you’ve never said anything rude?”

 

“Only because he started it!”

 

The green skinned woman groaned, “ Really? Because I recall many fights you've started with remarks about rajoons-”

 

“It's raccoon, and oh yeah? Then I guess you haven’t ever heard him call me humey or Star-Child, or Star-Lameo or-”

 

“Two wrongs do not make a right, “ Gamora interrupts and then her voice softens, “ Peter, we’re a team. And as a team, everyone must learn to compromise and chose our battles. He can be bossy and reckless...but  so can all of us. The two of you are both so stubborn but is your pride truly more important than us?”

 

Peter frowned, “ He’s the one avoiding everyone. Sounds to me like he doesn’t care much about us.”

 

“Really? Fighting alongside us, fixing the sound system for you, making sure our equipment is up to par, going on errands without complaint, fixing the Milano all by himself, coming to save us from Ego when he could have just run off, calling the Ravagers for the funer-”

 

“Hey, “ Peter warns quietly, a lump forming in his throat. The raw place in his chest aches and Gamora stops there, continuing on sternly, “He cares about us, Peter. He’s trying. He’s probably just having a hard-”

 

“We’re all having a hard time.”

 

Gamora pauses and then finally gives up, though Peter knows she has a point. It’s just he’s not ready to face Rocket, not ready to think about all the small strategist had done. Part of him wished he had never gotten Yondu involved, then maybe he would still be alive. Part of him wished that Rocket had come up with a plan that saved them both. Part of him wished that Rocket would come to him first so they could hash it out. But most of him, pretty much all of him was just so...hurt. He’d lost his father, he’d lost his dad and now...now his team was falling apart. He almost missed the snark, compared to the indifferent silence. But how could he fix this? Gamora seemed so sure it was as easy as talking to Rocket but it wasn’t; out of all of them he was the most prickly. Groot had been the only one who could get through to him it seemed and with said tree so small and childlike...maybe that was part of Rocket’s attitude, worrying about Groot but it couldn't be just that, he thought.

 

He flinched when he heard light footsteps, recognizing them as belonging to the object of his thoughts. Peter almost felt the urge to duck behind something but he resisted; he faced Rocket with a forced smile as the furry figure, thinner and less groomed than he'd ever seen, shuffled out of the storage room.

 

“Hey, buddy. Pretty quick run, huh?”

 

Rocket stared at him with glazed over eyes then nodded, continuing on his way.

 

“Get everything okay?’

 

“Yeah, “ There was a pause, “ Didn’t steal nothing, if that’s what yer askin’.”

 

“No, no, man. Not what I’m asking at all. Just checking in, seeing how things...are, “ he finished lamely though no retort came; Rocket just pressed his palm against the scanner near the storage room as lightly as possible. The door opens but he pauses, asking over his shoulder in a raspy tone.

 

“Came to ask me to pilot the nightshift, right?”

 

Yes, Peter thought, and I also need you to flipping talk to me but instead he says, “No...We got it under control. Just...you can do your own thing, I guess.”

 

The door closes and Peter deflates. Biting his lip, he turns on his heel and heads back to his room. He needs to unwind, needs to listen to some angry songs and punch shit because he could accept sarcasm and sneers but the complete emptiness stung. And somehow, when he’s notified of the ridiculously badass bazooka Rocket had wordless left in the common area along with six blasters to replace the ones they lost, he doesn’t feel excited. Because Rocket had been building those while Groot whimpered outside the closed door and Peter and Drax sat in complete silence and Gamora diligently went over possible missions from a few feet away. It didn't seem right but...But that’s fine he thought suddenly; Rocket just wanted to be part of the crew, separate from their family. That was fine. Peter didn’t care. He had Drax who didn’t get his jokes sometimes, and Gamora who disliked his immature ideas, and Groot who was a baby that could barely be understood...he didn’t know he’d miss Rocket, given how much they fought. But maybe, a lot like him and Yondu, them arguing was how they showed they cared.

  
Tears welled up in his eyes then, because gawd, he’d just lost his dad two weeks ago and it wasn’t right that this was happening. Family took care of family, he thought, a painful pang in his chest. Obviously Rocket wasn’t family. He knew this, had suspected this and yet it still hurt like a bitch. Rubbing his face in an attempt to stop feeling overwhelmed, he jerked when the lights flickered above them.


	4. Chapter 4

“ A surge,” Gamora informed him as soon as he appeared in the hallway outside his room.

 

He could tell by the lack of turbulence that they were on autopilot now which was fine. They were several days away from Ungercon City and it wasn't like there was anything for them to run into that the sensors wouldn't pick up. It seemed like they hadn't really had time to breath before getting back to work but this gig had been too good pass on. For 75,000 units each, they were all up for dealing with a band of religious extremists that had taken an artifact “of great importance”. The Ungers, or Ungertakers as he liked to call them, were timid people, very mysterious but not a threat on the least. Likely, the thieves who stole from them weren't much either.

 

Sad music drifted out of his bedroom and into the hall and feeling oddly embarrassed, he quickly closed the door behind him.

 

Looking past Gamora, he sees that Drax has come aswell, knife ready as Groot scrambled from the crook of their female crewmember’s arm until he landed on the metal flooring with a soft clang. Before they had time to discuss his anxious behavior or the lights (which seemed fine now), Groot began to run down the hall. Drax watches him, they all watch the little tree, and adds, “ Perhaps we have encountered an electro magnetic rift? It passed quickly enough.”

 

“Maybe, “ Peter says, “ But we would have been notified if the rift was enough to mess with the lights.”

 

“ Perhaps there are wires that were jarred when the Sovereign came for their vengeance.”

 

The former Ravager shoots down Drax's second explanation, “No, it can't be leftover damage from the battle. If he's one thing, Rocket's diligent when it comes to that stuff.”

 

The three of them exchange looks because that was true; Rocket only made small mistakes after he'd pulled a 72 hour shift or dipped into the moonshine a little too much. Which, actually, maybe he had entered a frenzy again. Suddenly, it became a bit more apparent that they were two men down. Gamora had relayed to them earlier that Rocket was working on something to do with detonators with an adjustable timer but wouldn't he have come out of the storage room, if only to complain briefly about the lights? Well, lately he hasn't been all that talkative but they still sped down the hall, something feeling off about the situation.

 

“Something’s wrong with Sonny, “ Peter begins worriedly, picking up the rear.

 

“I did not know the rodent answered to the name Sunny. Very befitting.”

 

Peter sighed as they turned a corner, heading down another hall, “ No, man. It’s just a reference. Sonny Bono? Cher? Nevermind. Rocket’s acting weird, is what I’m saying. “

 

Seconds later Drax punches the scanner at the entrance to the storage room without a word, allowing Gamora and Peter to burst in, only to find their two missing teammates engaged in an argument.  

 

“-m Groot!”

 

Rocket grumbles behind gritted teeth, frowning at an incensed Groot who only crossed his little arms with a scowl, “ What are you even talking about? I’m fine, alright?”

 

“I am GROOT!”

 

Rocket winces, “ I told you already. It was an accident. Besides, you know I’ve had worse.”

 

“ Let me take a look, “ Groot and Rocket both jump at Gamora’s voice, “ If it’s not too serious I should be able to provide aid. Otherwise, we’re not too far from Ungercon City-” Her eyes take in the smoking appendage that the raccoon had cradled to his chest.

 

“I ain’t going to no doctor!” Rocket snaps, taking several steps back and dripping blood as he went. Behind him is an open panel in the wall, small tendrils of smoke remaining. It looked like he had been attempting to charge a large, spiky box (detonator, Peter guessed) but the cord he'd used had been faulty. Peter winced; he thought he'd thrown it away, having noted a small kink in it months ago but apparently Rocket hadn't inspected it before hooking it up and bam...he was just relieved it hadn’t taken out the whole damn ship.

 

“You are bleeding.” Drax points out.

 

“No shit, genius! “ Rocket pauses, realizing what he's said and seeming to regret it. It’s the most animated he’s been in weeks and it’s clears he’s on a roll when he snarls, refusing to make eye contact, “ I can fix the damn wall no problem, you didn't need to come barging in here. So how about you all get lost?”

 

Peter’s lip curls, “ What the hell is your problem, man? “

 

“My problem is that this, “ Rocket gasps in pain but still completes the gesture of flinging his burned arm out angrily, splatting their legs and boots with his blood; it’s then that the empty bottles on the floor come to their attention: Zandarian Whiskey, of course, “ Ain’t any of your business!”

 

Gamora pinches the bridge of her nose, “ Rocket, calm down-”

 

“You are drunk, “ Drax observes, which only makes the wounded figure scoff. Groot rapidly looks between the three of them and his best friend, letting out a stern but no less indecipherable, “ I Am Groot...”

 

“This is not the time to pull this crap, “ Peter tries because it’s easier to be angry then to be worried. And boy, was he starting to feel worried. This erratic behavior had to stop, “Would it kill you to just let us look at your damn arm? You could have blown our systems fucking around like this! “

 

“Oh boo hoo, your poor fucking systems! Well, you don’t gotta worry, pal, because they’re running better than they’ve ever been thanks to yours truly!” Rocket stumbles and Groot’s vine reach out to steady him, as they all move a bit closer.

 

“Don’t touch that!”

 

“I’m just unplugging it, “ Gamora snaps then her tone evens out as her hand wraps around the damaged cord; it wasn’t connected to the detonator but it was still in the wall, “ It’s still smoking a bit, that’s why. I won’t disrupt your...”

 

Peter blinks when she trails off but then he follows her gaze to the box near to Rocket’s overloaded work station. The walls of the storage room are well organized, covered in shelves that the five of them carefully packed. But near the back wall is Rocket’s larger tools, as well as Peter’s tools and junk, all of which surrounds a heavy desk that’s been nailed to the floor. Usually, the room is kept very neat since much of their ammunition is stored here but Rocket has pulled down several crates of parts and nearest to his sealing gun is a hamper lined with an oil stained towel. But it is what is piled in the hamper that catches his attention. His chest aches, a lump forming in his throat as he takes in hundreds of small, circular patches. His mind barely wants to process what he’s seeing because if they had had one extra suit, if his mask hadn't been ruined in the fight...Rocket had made them hundreds of safety suits, but they were weeks too late.

 

“ You have made us many things. We are appreciative, “ Drax starts and he sounds strangely gentle, though his monotone remains, “ Cease your fussing and allow us to mend your arm, small creature. As gratitude.”

 

Rocket lets loose a roar, as if he wanted to retort but his frustration and anger caused the words to meld together into one rage filled sound, “ I am not a creature! I am not a thing, damnit!”

 

“I Am Groot!”

 

“He did, he just said it!” Rocket says and his voice cracks as he starts to sway on his feet.

 

“Dude, he didn’t mean it like that. Would you just listen for one second before-” As if on cue their wounded teammate starts to fall forward, and Peter lunges to prevent him from crushing Groot. He expects claws and yelling, maybe a bite to the face but instead he gets an armful of blood soaked fur that smelled like oil and burnt plastic; he stood up, watching as Groot dangled from Rocket's tail for just a moment before slowly retracting his arms. Gamora ends her examination of the panel, muttering about airing the room out, and getting rid of the cord. Drax remains quiet, his hands flexing.

 

“Don’t want me here, none of you do, “ Rocket suddenly says against Peter’s shoulder, causing the Terran to flinch.

 

“Not true at all."

 

Rocket convulses in pain and says no more, finally going limp just as Groot begins to wail, impatient and worried. Jumping into action, they rush towards the infirmary because yeah...there was something seriously off about Rocket and Peter, emotionally stunted as he was, wasn't going to stand by any longer. Setting the limp form down on a soft, leather exam table, he had expected him to weigh more with so much implanted hardware. Uncomfortable and hands tacky with blood, he casts a look at Gamora, who quickly begins assessing the injury as the rest of them waited in the wings. What was he suppose to say to Rocket, he wondered, how was he suppose to talk to him when he woke up. He had less than 3% of a plan here and winging it...for once it didn't seem like a viable option.

 

"Peter?"

 

He doesn't turn around, instead calls over his shoulder; he thinks he feels their disappointment as he leaves the infirmary in a rush," Gonna go...make sure we're still on course. Let me know when he's awake."

 


	5. Chapter 5

“ Well, he's never been the type to do things halfway. 2nd degree up to his elbow and 3rd degree burns in some spots on his paw. I'm not sure his fur will grow back.”

 

“It was wise of you to sedate him, “ Drax offers as he grabs Groot's watering can and pellets; usually it was Rocket that fed Groot his dinner and tucked him into the damp soil of his sleeping pot but given his condition...

 

Each of them had thankfully decided to educate themselves on the sapling’s schedule, watching Rocket throughout a typical day and glancing through the meticulously kept notebook the strategist kept on his workbench. They didn't know where the care information had come from, perhaps Groot himself, but it did seem to work well as he slowly grew. But up until now, they had rarely cared for Groot, mostly entertained him as Rocket supervised like a protective father until it was time for a feeding, nap or check up; though they had noted that Rocket had reduced the amount of time he spent with Groot outside of this schedule, as if he was beginning to avoid his friend just as he did the others. It didn’t seem fair but despite their comments when Rocket gently deposited Groot in the kitchen or outside their bedroom door or into one of their laps during their piloting shifts...he always seemed hesitant to leave but had heard him grumble to the littel tree as if he was the one who asked and not them, “ Come on, you complain that watching me work is boring anyway. You’ll have more fun here, 'kay? “

 

Gamora had protested the most, seeing Groot’s fallen expression often but Rocket couldn’t be swayed and rarely even acknowledged that she had spoken. Stubborn fool...breaking from her thoughts and shoving down her frustration, she noted aloud, “I doubt he’ll agree when he wakes up.”

 

“The beast has been unstable lately. As has Quill. I suspect we are all shaken by the last battle.”

 

Gamora agreed and paused as she thought of a reference, an example if you will for her to use to determine a course of action. Immediately she thought of Nebula who had much like Rocket been taken apart. She felt a tug in her chest, knowing years had gone by where she had been completely ignorant of Nebula's struggle. Both her sister and teammate were so angry and preferred to  work on their own and yet...they craved closeness, wanted just one person to see they were hurting. But with Rocket he didn't have anyone to blame, no distinct purpose or understanding of why he was made. Nebula had that and she clung to it but her teammate... She could see now that as a result he struggled to accept his place here and his worth because he had no means of measure; he was the only one of his kind. But they could only tolerate so much and she had seen him shove these feelings down before so why he couldn't behave now, her rational mind couldn't see.

What had brought this all up now? She didn't agree with Drax that it was simply the strain of the battle. Had it been building up? What had gone on between their furry teammate and Yondu for she didn't completely understand why his death triggered such a strong reaction.

Was it guilt concerning the light bulbs? For damaging the Milano? Guilt for his horrible behavior? She supposed, in his shoes, she would feel she had failed them, because she had not saved Yondu and because their fleeing the Sovereign resulted in them meeting Ego though. But why push them away, as if that would soothe his guilt. But she acknowledged that she thought differently than Rocket, had lived a different life. What she did know was they both had hurt many in their lifetimes for different and similar reasons; but she tried her best now to repent. As did Rocket in some way, if the box of suits was any indication, “ I think that's what they're feeling: guilt.”

 

“And grief, “ Drax pauses, “ We all have lost much. But our family will recover. We are far too resilient.”

 

With that he leaves, the green assassin taking a seat beside Rocket’s prone form as she tried to digest Drax’s optimism. Her mind is troubled for several long moments but it seems clear that she's not the one who needs to talk with Rocket, at least not initially. She wonders if he’ll really come back when Rocket wakes and as if hearing the suggestion, a small, clawed foot twitches.

 

Of course, she thought. Of course he’d have an immunity to sedatives.

 

Her reflexes are what save her as he wakes with a horrendous snarl, throwing himself off the table and onto the floor. Gamora stumbles back, heart pounding but ready for anything; when it seemed Rocket wasn’t going to move from where he had squeezed himself between the table and the wall, she slowly knelt down. Should she call Peter first, or maybe Groot? She tries to meet his eye, to at least confirm that Rocket is all there but he’s curled up, a growl emitting from the far corner. She bites the bullet then and moves closer just to get his attention. It’s not even a handful of inches but he still jerks, swiping sluggishly with his injured arm. He misses her by a long way as the pain makes him uncoordinated and shaky. But still, his voice is hoarse but clear, “ Fuck, leave me alone.”

 

“...You know, “ she says as she stands, “ One day you’re going to tell us to leave, and we will.”

 

“ You think I care?”

 

She turns her back to him, trying to keep her hands busy as she cleans up the bandages and antiseptic and syringes she had taken out. She hears him crawl out from beneath the exam table soon after and slowly head towards the door. Concern stays trapped behind her lips as she fumbles with supplies. It frustrates her to no end that in spite of it all, he didn’t trust them. Maybe Drax was wrong about them being a family, she thought because everything he did...just because he was having a hard time didn’t mean he could treat people this way. He had to learn that and come up with better coping mechanisms, just like the rest of them...she paused then when she heard the door open and shut. Then again, it wasn’t so easy was it? It had taken her a long time and she still hadn't adjusted to the freedom and feelings of safety that was life beyond her father's control. Gamora bit her lip, leaving the infirmary; she passed Peter along the way who sputtered in confusion at her scowl but she couldn’t deal with him right now, or anyone really. She guessed she needed some time on her own too.

 

 

\---

 

He uses the wall for support and while it is probably blood loss for the most part and not medication, rage still burns within him at the vertigo he feels. How fucking dare she medicate him? How dare they just decide they can do whatever they please with him? It was his fucked up arm, it was his mangled body, it was his goddamn choice! They couldn’t just take him and stick him with needles and- he forced himself to calm down, already feeling himself going too far into panic. Fuck, he thought as he rubbed his face with his good hand, fuck everything.

 

His first idea was that he go hide in his room. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to try and finish working on the detonator but he also thought...his feet led him towards the makeshift greenhouse they’d made for Groot, which was basically a decked out storage closet. He’d originally shared a room with the flora colossus but realized when his friend had become small that he was more susceptible to the cold and needed more humidity than Rocket could tolerate. Despite this, he’d spent quite a bit of time in there, sweating his ass off until lately when he realized...maybe he was holding Groot back in some way. But he figured just this once he could hang out with the little guy, let his friend’s presence comfort him because there was no way either of them were going to get any rest after-

 

His eyes locked on Groot’s dozing face, from the open doorway.

 

The watering can he used was sitting on the shelf and Drax was carefully sealing a box of plant food pellets that he’d ordered for 10,000 units per container. He saw that the overhead heat lamp he’d fashioned, one that monitored temperature so Groot didn’t dry out, was angled just right. Despite the door being wide open and letting out the warm heat, the scanner on the wall still showed that humidity was adequate too. Groot looked okay without him and as Drax moved around the small room, tidying up all of Groot’s knick knacks and toys (ie things he saw lying around that he liked and then proceed to take back to his room). Everything was fine here. Groot was perfectly taken care of.

 

Numbly, Rocket turned around. This was good, he thought. It was easier this way, better this way. He used the wall for support, feeling his way back to the storage room.


	6. Chapter 6

After several hours of complete silence and just staring into the expanse of space, Peter felt arms wrap around his shoulders. The corner of his mouth quirked and it was nice, a comfort without expectation regardless of their mostly unspoken thing; they stayed like that for some time, her hair tickling his cheek before she carefully pulled away.

“How are you doing?”

“Alright, “ he says truthfully though he has his moments, ones he luckily hasn't had in front of her; he manages a playful, “How you doin’?”

She swatted his arm lightly before crossing her arms, something clearly on her mind but she seemed to be unsure of how to say it. Did she want to bring up Yondu? They'd talked quite a bit already, him venting about bad memories but also tentatively sharing good ones; he was having probably the hardest time with this duality, which often meant he went to his room to blast music while he sobbed like a child after these talks. Because, Yondu was good to him, better than Ego by far and even his own grandfather who seemed kind of disappointed that his daughter hadn't achieved more than having Peter. But Yondu was also not the nurturing kind and often he preached tough love when honestly, all Peter wanted was to feel like he mattered, that he wasn't just good for thieving. And now that he learned the truth, that he was cared for...it seemed alittle too late. Te damage had already been done and while he wished he could just get over it...there was hurt still there, hurt that talking brought up.

Though his mental state was improving, he wasn't sure if he was up for another talk, not after everything that happened earlier with Rocket. Which yeah, he had said come and get him, hadn't he? With that, he could kind of fill in the blanks and understand Gamora's sour expression and slowly, he stood with a sigh of his own. Rocket was awake, he assumed and probably causing trouble but somehow, his time spent flying alone had given him some perspective. He thought he might know how to talk to Rocket, even if he ended up fumbling alot, because he'd noticed a pattern. He knew Rocket was touchy about being called a thing or being called an animal. He knew this because Peter had used this weakness against him but he was starting to see that maybe...maybe it honestly was affecting the ball busting raccoon. But it was gonna be a hard habit to break, especially when provoked because it wasn't like they could ignore that he was furry and had a tail and that had some animalistic habits. But maybe, reaffirming that he was appreciated would help.

“I doubt he'll speak to you.”

“ Just need him to listen. Think I should bring him a peace offering? I think we have some coffee left, and some brandy.”

Gamora doesn't answer for a long time, making him turn to her with a frown, “ I don't think-”

They both jump when a sharp beeping sounds, neither of them recognizing it but it doesn't take long for a box to appear on the piloting screen. Peter hadn't been aware the navigation software had been updated but he couldn't help but smile as he explained, “ Thirteen clicks from the jump point. Looks like we're ahead of schedule. Wow, I guess the left side boosters really were lagging for my estimates to be this off. “

“Can our contact meet us earlier?”

The Terran grins as he taps on the communicator, “ Let’s call ‘em up and see.”

\---

“ You did not mention that one of your companions was... “ the shadow of a being, standing nearly eight feet with wide eyes trailed off as their eyes found Rocket. A growl began and the smaller figure adjusted their one handed grip on their weapon, hiding their obvious discomfort but luckily Gamora stepped forward.

“We informed you that we were a five person crew. You hired all of us and as a result, we agreed to find the artifact. “

“We have traditions, “ the Unger says eerily and it was true; they were asked not allowed to wear yellow or any bright colors when they accepted the mission. And when they'd landed they had been asked to removed their shoes as soon as they began to approach the temple. But somehow, forbidding Rocket entrance seemed like less of a tradition and more of a cultural bias. But it worked out in a way, Peter thought when it looked like their host wouldn’t be giving in and when Rocket lowered his weapon with a wince. His arm was still fucked up and it would be better if he and Groot rested on the Milano and let them handle the mission. He doubted any other circumstances would have convinced their furry teammate but maybe-

“No vermin in your flarking temple, huh?”

“ We have strict traditions regarding...cleanliness.”

The Unger does not blink as Rocket snarls, ready to attack but Drax steps in front of him before he gets far, his brow furrowed.

“He does not shed as often as one would assume. I vouch that he is very clean.”

“Tradition-”

Rocket turned sharply, stalking toward the Milano without a word and while it was a relief that he hadn’t flipped out, it also felt so wrong. Groot toddled after their enraged teammate as Gamora turned back to the Unger, her eyes narrowed because if Rocket wasn’t going to defend himself (which probably involved more bullets than they would agree with) then it was absolutely their duty to, “ He is still owed pay. Your oversight in mentioning his species was not allowed, despite the Guardians being well known, is yours alone.”

“If not, “ Peter adds, “ Good luck finding someone else before the Solstice.”

“Yes, yes, “ comes the nervous reply, “ Well, we...agreed to that amount and we shall honor it I suppose, sh-should you find the artifact.”

“Which we don’t even have a description of.”

Drax nods at Peter’s observation, “ Yes, I agree that a description of the artifact will allow us to recover it much sooner. I do not wish to stay long on your dreadful planet. Your kind depress me.”

The Ungers pause at the muscular male and his bluntness but no one corrects Drax, all of them seemingly on the same page; get in, get out, get off this planet. And so with a wave of one of their bony, taloned hands, an image appears out of thin air. It is a rock, not even a unique color or shape; it’s small, grey with some flat edges and hard points and why it’s so important, none of them can discern. But they still stand a little straighter and lean in to listen as the image dissolves, “ It was four moons ago, that we first discovered it was missing...”

 

 

And you're rushing headlong, you've got a new goal,

  
And you're rushing headlong, out of control

 

Rocket cries out but keeps going, throwing things around and shredding a few things with his claws if they happen to remind him if the people, the crew, that he had just fled from. His arm is pure agony but if he stops now, he’ll collapse in a heap or something as equally shameful.

He doesn’t have much, and he realizes that now as he crams it all in a crate. He can hear pounding on the storage room door and he knows who it is, can image his distressed face and can maybe faintly hear his demands to be let in but he can’t. He just can’t. If he stays, he'll hope. And if he hopes, he’ll get a attached and if he cares for them then it will just hurt, hurt even more. Because everyone turns on him in the end because it clear to see; he’s not needed and he’s not wanted. So he’s gotta go.

 

 

And you think you're so strong. But there ain't no stopping,

  
No there's nothin' you can do about it

 

Gamora lifts the boulder above her head, a piece of one of the towering temples that had quickly crumbled when Drax was thrown. None of them had anticipated a whirlwind of activity when the saw the dark beast, one that had been summoned by the Unger heretics. They'd been too late, delayed by a long discussion of cleanliness and traditional behavior expected during what was described as a simple retrieval. Now, beneath their feet were carefully carved runes that had become dormant as soon as the magic pulsed and took shape as the serpent like shadow.

Gamora bared her teeth which were tinted by a bit of blood as the summoned creature hissed at her and then, when it was just close enough, she hurled it with all her strength.

“No, “ cried the Unger who fell and stumbled among the bodies of his disciples, “ You fools, it has consumed the stone! You cannot harm him lest you hurt the st-”

“Screw the fucking rock!” Peter yelled, squeezing the emergency button on his collar.

The shadow cackled and then, leapt high into the air as they regrouped, the three of them standing back to back as they readied themselves. The Unger, however, began to shout and draw their opponent's attention, “ Uir, oh being of the mystic greys and tranquil night. My brothers have called you forth but you have been tainted by our world. Come, come to me! I sacrifice myself to appease the suffering we have wrought-”

It roars and charges, its body more like smoke than a solid figure but it hits the Unger hard, hard enough to splatter his body into wide arches of blood. The smoke loses form but before their very eyes it reshapes, before turning towards them with misty jowls.

 

 

There's nothin' you can do, No there's nothin' you can do about it

  
No there's nothin' you can, nothin' you can

 

 

He ignores the beeps at first, panting as he leans his head against the wall. He thinks about what he’ll do, once they’ve left the atmosphere and him here on this miserable planet. It’d be wiser to wait, leave when they’re somewhere he can work and make money until he’s able to get back into bounty hunting but waiting feels like an acquise. Somehow, making it harder on himself will prove to everyone and himself that he’s fine, that he can make it just fine on his own.

Finally, he starts dragging the crate towards the door where he’s hit with vines and insults but he doesn't head to his room to pack. No, definitely not, because finally the alarm registers in his head. It's instinct maybe, or the same misplaced attachment that had him packing up all his shit, he thinks as he moves.

“Fuck, “ he says under his breath, Groot grabbing his tail as he charged towards the controls.

 

 

Nothin' you can do about it

  
Headlong down the highway and you're rushing, Headlong out of control

 

 

A battered Drax shielded them, using the trunk of a withered tree like a baseball bat though it mostly distracts the demon, passing through it’s blackened form easily enough. Gamora struggles to stand, having taken a hit meant for the Terran of their group but doing her best to shrug it off. They were trying their hardest to come up with a strategy but it seemed like fighting wasn’t enough and running...running was certain death. Their abilities required a physical opponent and they didn’t know enough about the ritual, having simply stumbled in on it just when they were finishing the last rite, to undo it.

“It’s coming around again. Move-”

They all cry out as a bright light bares down on them, the creature screeching as it turns to ash before their very eyes. Above them, squinting, they can see the Milano lowering at a careful speed.

 

 

And you think you're so strong

  
But there ain't no stopping and you can't stop rockin'

  
And there's nothin' you can, nothin' you can, Nothin' you can do about it

 

 

“I’m really glad they were stupid enough to pay us first, “ Peter pants as he enters the cockpit, laughing breathlessly as Drax groans painfully from behind him, “Rocket, man, you had me worried there. What took you so-”

But the captain’s seat is vacant, as are the others. He can see some form of autopilot is being run on the screen and it’s shitty he thinks, that Rocket would go as far as to pull them in, basically save their butts but then abandon them again, as if he didn’t really care or think much of the fact they were all in danger and needed his help. Then he hears a whimper and sees Groot dragging his feet, coming to hug Gamora’s right boot in clear misery. And there it was, the last straw.

“Peter-”

He turns on his heel, gun still in hand as he heads down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

“Open this damn door!”

 

Again, he received no response and finally, teeth gritted, he begins tapping on the screen outside the door. It flashes red, clearly disliking his attempts to override but this is his ship and even if Rocket customized the shit out of everything he could still find a way into the system. All he needed to do was...he rolled his eyes when the screen flashed blue and the door slid open.

How did he know, seriously, that the pass code would be something stupid like Stardork? Walking in just as the door attempted to slam shut, he saw a worse for wear Rocket standing on his nest of blankets that he used as a bed; his uninjured arm slid off the button on the wall as if it lacked the strength to stay raised but the glare remained strong. But Peter’s attention was elsewhere; the room was empty and what little that had been in there was now crammed into a storage crate, all except the blankets. His heart leapt into his throat because this meant Rocket had really been planning to ditch them.

 

Fangs were bared in his direction, “ Out.”

 

“ Hell no, “ he says shrilly, “ Seriously, you and Groot were gonna hitch a ride off Ungercon City? Dude, they hated you here. And we just killed their entire congregation! Who do you think was gonna pick you up?”

 

“You think I care? Ain't your problem now is it?! And newsflash, Groot is sticking with you guys. I'm flying solo.”

 

Peter actually takes a step back, “ What?”

 

“ What, you need it explained, ya dumb humy? Y 'all don't need me. Groot sure as hell doesn't need me  Said it yourselves. All I do is frickin pick fights and go through your stuff and talk shit.”

 

“You have lost it. That’s the only explanation her, that you’ve gone completely bonkers. You’re not even making sense. You...you can't do this!”

 

“Watch me.”

 

“Groot needs you, you moron!”

 

“He don't. He'll be happier with you guys.”

 

“Dude, I don't get why you're even mad at us. We have done nothing but put up with you! All your insults and, and weird quirks!” Peter bellows and his mind is whirling; these aren’t the things he wants to say, not even close but he hurts and aches just like when people bring up Ego or his mother or Yondu. But he can’t help it; he has to lash out, make Rocket hurt too because how dare he, after everything, decide that Peter and the rest of the Guardians aren’t worth the trouble, “ You think there’s anyone else out there that would have tolerated your shit for this long? How Groot managed I-”

 

“I know, alright?! And that’s why I'm leaving! I don't belong here! And Groot, Groot will get over it! So leave me the fuck alone so I can finish packing!”

 

Peter’s words start to become jumbled in his mouth and he sputters a bit before finally blurting, “You can't do this. After everything we went through together-”

 

“Would you just give it up? Like you can't find someone to do repairs or fight or copilot or all of the above!”

 

Peter flinches when Rocket sits down, basically falls down into his nest of blankets; it’s as if he’s focusing all his energy on yelling and it’s draining him fast. It restores some clarity, that single motion and so he starts again, “You're not just a-”

 

“Bullshit! Admit it, you all hate being around me. You hate sharing a ship with a thing, a beast- There’s plenty of folks who would join at the chance if you really need a fifth member-”

 

“That's not true! And it’s not about crew numbers-”

 

“It is, it's so true! So you should be happy-”

 

“ Well I’m fucking not! Damnit, Rocket, I can't handle losing another fucking family member right now, alright?!”

 

A long silence follows as Peter sniffles, wiping at his eyes because he’s this close to breaking down. He maybe shouldn't care about Rocket and the guardians so much; they had had a pretty shaky start, and obviously they all had issues. But he supposed that not every relationship was 100% good and healthy; there were some things that had to be worked out and things that had to be compromised on. The five of them could make it but they had to try and just like he and Yondu, maybe trying wouldn’t always produce perfect results. But if it was worth it, you picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and tried again. So he cleared his throat, sniffled again, and thought about the five of them listening to music and laughing and joking on good days and on bad days...he thought about a hamper full of little circular patches.

 

“Will you just...let me talk? Then you can decide if you really wanna leave...but just let me say some shit, alright?”

 

“Then talk fast, “ Rocket says though his voice has lost most of it's heat. So Peter sucks in a deep breath and starts.

 

“You can fight with someone and still care about them. You can say horrible things, can even threaten to eat them, “ Peter swallowed around the lump in his throat, “ You can pack up all your shit after then raising you for twenty years, steal an escape pod, and double-cross them in a pretty choice deal. And you can still care about them, and miss them.”

 

Rocket looked down at the floor angrily, “ I’m not pretending to be an asshole, Quill. I'm not ever gonna be any different. “

 

“Well, you did break us outta prison. And grabbed my hand when I took the infinity stone. And you came for us when we went with Ego even though we had been fighting. Sounds like you've already changed. We all have. But we've all got hang ups so we're probably still gonna piss each other off.”

 

“Then what’s the point of staying together, “ Rocket grumbled.

 

“ Because we can fight everyday, all day and twice on Sunday...and we'll still be family. I mean, probably not a healthy thing to do but...well, everyone in this family is a little messed up, am I right? But as a team....what isn't gonna fly is this whole deciding things on your own.”

 

Rocket sneered, “ I don't follow orders from anyone. That ain’t gonna change.”

 

“ I don’t mean you have to listen blindly. We all have the right to veto plans and speak our mind, as long as we don’t fuck everything up by going off and doing our own thing, “ Peter notes that Rocket flinches a bit which is and isn’t his intention; he doesn’t want anymore battery incidences but he also doesn’t want him to think that power isn’t split evenly amongst the team, “ What I’m talking about is this whole us secretly hating you bull. You decided that Groot didn't need you anymore. You decided we all wanted you gone. You decided that Yondu’s death was your fault. But these things aren't true-”

 

“Oh, yeah? ”

 

“Yeah. Yondu chose this. He...he made a decision and I hate it but it was his decision. No one blames you or thinks it was your fault. If it's anyone's fault-”

 

“I could have come for you, “ Rocket snaps, the words bursting out as he began to yell, “ I could damn well have found you and gotten you out-”

 

“But he gave you an order, “ Peter interrupted, “ And you listened. Now why would you do that, Mr. I Don’t Follow Orders? “

 

Rocket’s mouth opened and then shut.

 

“Because you knew. Even if he agreed to go and you convinced Groot to go with him, you knew Yondu would find me faster and unlike you, he had the strength to carry me if I was unconscious. But he wouldn't have agreed. Trust me, he could out stubborn anyone and there wasn’t enough time to force him onto that ship. You gave him all the gear you had and did the only thing you could: order Kraglin to leave to save everyone else. And yet you still hovered as close to the planet as possible. The ship was scorched because you still hoped that you could pull us in time. 19 seconds, Rocket. It took 19 seconds for you to pull us in...but we all know what happens when you’re out there unprotected-”

 

Rocket’s voice cracked, “ It was almost instantaneous.”

 

“ You knew. You used your best judgement and we trust that. Fuck. It was a lose-lose situation, I know. And I'm the one who put us in that situation. It's not just you who's reckless. If I had just paid more attention to Ego, figured it out sooner-”

 

“But that’s not what happened, “ Rocket says and Peter nods, eyes brimming with tears, “ And you didn’t want any of this-”

 

“You're right. None of us wanted this to happen, but it did. Bad shit happens and it's not right...And you know what else isn't right? Living your life being called a thing, even by people who call themselves your family because they’re too blind to see how it affects you. And I promise you right now, that stops now so you...you don't have to leave. You can still be a part of this messed up family because to us, you’re not a thing or an animal regardless of the mistakes we've  made. You’re a Guardian of the Galaxy and we need you.”

 

“...Jesus fricking Christ, Quill. Laying it on kinda thick, ain’t ya?”

 

Peter laughs, wiping at the tears rolling down his face, “ M-maybe. Don’t expect any more heartfelt talks in the future, you dick. I don’t think I can handle much more chick flick moments.”

 

“Same here.”

 

They share a small laugh before finally they note the vines growing under the door. Peter almost stands but Rocket moves faster, reaching with his unbandaged arm for the small button on the wall. The door opened to reveal Groot and Drax but Rocket rapidly pressed the button, allowing only his best friend to enter. Rolling his eyes, Peter couldn't help but be relieved when Groot ran straight for Rocket. Only, instead of asking to be picked up, the tree’s face contorted as he got closer.

 

“Ow, “Rocket says when he takes a vine to the face, “Ow, you little brat! What ya hitting me for?”

 

“We are Groot!”

 

They freeze at that because so far the flora colossus had only ever uttered the same three words, since his death and rebirth. It was startling, heartbreaking because it referenced only one other occasion when they were nestled in a larger Groot’s arms. While Peter couldn't understand him most of the time, he had an idea of what was being said. This seemed to be confirmed when Rocket hugged Groot tight, letting out a shaky exhale.

 

“Yeah, alright, ya frickin' twig. Now I'm cryin’. Ya happy now?”

 

Peter started to leave because yeah, privacy. Not to mention he didn't have much else to say. He guessed he didn't need to have a plan after all, and maybe they could start here. The five of them would be fine, as long as they fought hard, loved hard and when things got bad...no one took the easy way out.

 

End


End file.
